Behind the Mask
by Kurohane Ookami
Summary: I could feel it, that writhing creature inside of me that struggled against its prison deep down. I couldn't let it control me. Panting, I screamed out for someone to help me before the icy grip seeped into my mind as the Hollow took away my will again..
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, hello. **

**If you a new reader, please don't worry about this Authors Note. To those of you who have been with me since this fic began last year and have not seen the notice, I am restarting Behind the Mask. This is due to many things, including gaps in the 'plot' I had going, along with my OC, who was a Mary Sue. Not only that, but I just wasn't satisfied at how many gaps there were in Tarena's past, along with various other minor details I won't make you listen to. **

**I will be keeping all of the events that occurred in the previous eighteen chapters, and although they will be rewritten, they will be kept. This fic will basically follow all of the events of Tarena's life in Soul Society before the whole Aizen fiasco. The chapter below starts off with Tarena right after she graduates from the Shinigami Academy, and will basically go from there. **

**Remember: This fic is rated M. There's a reason for that. Abuse, Torture, and Hints/Mentions of Rape. **

**I hope you all enjoy, and please review at the end of the chapter. It is greatly appreciated. **

0-0-0-0

_Prologue_

She wasn't all that special.

She was just another soul, from just another district, who happened to have high reiatsu levels.

That was it.

Hair a mix of copper and white blond strands fluffing out slightly, hanging just past her shoulders, tied up with a crimson ribbon. Her body was thin beneath the Shihakusho she now wore, the kosode loose around her hips. Her face was elegantly angled, with high cheekbones and graceful brows that arched over her eyes.

Her eyes.

The things that had started all of this.

They were an ice white with a blue shade, dark blue outlining the pupils and adding to the mystery of their depths. At times, the woman in the mirror appeared to be much older with the pain and suffering that lingered deep within.

Though she was calm on the outside, serene even, almost every Shinigami in the Academy knew that she would randomly lash out for what seemed to be no reason, using her words and her fists causing damage and unrest in the ranks. Not only this, but the first time her zanpakuto materialized, it was larger than most people had seen. However, she easily adapted and carried it on her back, sheathed in dark brown with crimson ribbons woven around the swords frame.

Which is why she was somehow chosen, no, _recommended, _that she take the entrance exam for the Gotei 13, and from there be put into the Eleventh Division.

No one understood that she had no love for fighting, as she'd heard her teachers say, repeating the same lines over and over until it became a chant. That was the Eleventh Divisions specialty. Their love of fighting and their skills in zanjutsu made them infamous in the halls of the Academy, her classmates boasting and preening that they would go into the bloodthirsty squad that did just as much damage to themselves as they did to their enemies. She'd learned it from the mouth of the kind Taicho of the Fourth Division, Unohana Retsu, after being rescued from a Hollow attack a few years ago.

_"Those men are in here just as often as they are out. It's in their nature. They have a love of battle that not many possess, and that is what makes them so crucial to Soul Society." _she'd explained patiently. _"If Soul Society lost the Eleventh Division, we would lose any battle afterwards. They are the primary source of our soldiers and comrades."_

And it had been true. Not long after she'd been released from the Fourth Squad to go to the Academy, the news that the former Kenpachi had been killed and replaced by another. Kenpachi Kiganjo.

The news had startled her; what kind of man would purposefully kill another for a rank?

The law in the Eleventh was different, she later learned. To become Taicho, rather than performing Bankai or any other tests, had to kill the current Taicho in front of two-hundred witnessess.

At the time, she had been slightly disgusted, but later, began to ponder the reasons behind it.

It made sense. Because the squad itself was composed up of so many bloodthirsty members, they had to establish some kind of balance that would allow them to remain in a kind of harmony with one another. And what better way than to have the strongest battle each other, winner taking all?

The only problem was..

Women were considered weak in their squad, and rarely was one ever accepted into their ranks without a good reason.

Like now.

Just because she had abnormal spiritual pressure, a large sword, and a 'violent nature', she was being placed into a certain place so no one would have to deal with her anymore.

It was the same story every time. People making excuses, covering up their mistakes, trying to hide an outcast into the one place they thought they wouldn't last, knowing that _finally_, they would be rid of them.

If only they all realized the blatant truth right in front of their blind faces.

She wasn't _violent_. She wasn't _bloodthirsty_.

She was _scared_.

**A/N: I hope you will review. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I honestly didn't know how to start this chapter. I hope you enjoy it anyway. **

0-0-0-0

_Chapter One_

_**Tarena Mitsuya: Eleventh Division.**_

Emotionlessly, she stared at her name, the Division number beside it.

Her teeth ground together lightly as others, few as they were, discovered which Divisions they would be entering.

She knew she would be going to the Eleventh, no matter how hard she tried to convince anyone otherwise. In their eyes she was unstable and bloodthirsty.

If only they knew the truth behind it.

Pulling her fist back, slender fingers curling in on one another, she brought it forward into the wall, hearing a crack from her knuckles as they collided. Turning on her heel, she walked away, eyes cool and features blank.

Murmurs broke out from behind her as the others began to wonder why she had been so upset by the results of the exam.

_None of them get it. _She thought bitterly.

None of them would understand.

_They would if you told them.. _the feathery soft voice of her zanpakuto whispered in her mind, muffled by the ever present wind that stole her voice away.

_What good would it do? All it would prove is that I've been abused. All I'll ever get is pity. It doesn't mean that it will stop. _Tarena retorted.

_Tarena.. _her zanpakuto sighed before falling silent.

Tarena remained silent, her steps light as a cats as she stalked away, spine rigid.

0-0-0-0

The Eleventh Division intimidating, in a slightly subtle way.

The grounds, made up of lighter compacted dirt, was clean. The buildings, scattered as they were, were clean, the white faded from time and use.

No, it was the men that were littered throughout the grounds, training and sparring, their faces streaked with a combination of sweat and dirt.

Breathing suddenly seemd difficult, her chest constricting and settling her into a familiar feeling of defense.

"Can I help you?" a low, gruff voice asked from behind her.

Turning around, Tarena was sure what little color was left in her face drained away when she noted the white haori marking the man as a Taicho.

"Hai. Tarena Mitsuya, new recruit." she replied cooly, keeping her features neutral. Silently, she was grateful for her determination and support from her zanpakuto.

"So you're the woman? Don't look like much." he commented with half lidded eyes. "Tenth Kenpachi, Kenpachi Kiganjo."

Tarena took the opportunity to observe her new Taicho.

He was on the heavier side, with dark skin that reminded her of freshly dug earth. His hair was slightly greasy and unruly, looking as though he'd just been in a wind storm, a few shades darker than his skin and eyes. The only thing that really stood out to her were the two silver piercings below his lip on either side, both ending in points.

"Come on." he interrupted, shoving past her and into his Divisions barracks, leaving her standing in the doorway for a moment before she followed.

As she passed by the men, one by one, they turned their disdainful and sneering faces to her. She held herself up rigidly, not allowing any emotion to cross her face, appearing ever inch an ice sculpture.

Until one of the men was bold enough to reach out to touch her hair.

In a single instant, she whirled, eyes blazing, features stone cold, and punched him in the jaw. A crack sounded from both his jaw and her knuckles, but Tarena ignored the jabbing pain to glare at those surrounding her. It was a clear warning.

A few more glances, and they resumed their training, albeit reluctantly.

"Not bad, woman. Do it again and I'll have to assign you cleaning duty. Understood?"

"Hai, Taicho." she replied, eyes still narrowed.

"Good. You'll be tested by the fourth seat to determine your abilities in an hour. Even if your zanpakuto is a Kido type I can't get rid of you. Orders from the Soutaicho." Kiganjo looked as pleased as Tarena felt, his lip curling ever so slightly in disgust.

"Hai." she replied again.

"You're staying over in the third building. Fifth room on the right." he gestured carelessly over in a general direction, dark eyes still half lidded.

"Hai." she repeated, feeling exactly like some kind of slave as she did so. Ordered around like she was some kind of trash.

_Maybe because I am. _she thought bitterly as Kiganjo slouched off.

0-0-0-0

_Strike. _

_Strike. _

_Dodge. _

_Kick. _

_Strike. _

_Dodge._

The mantra flew through her mind as her zanpakuto spoke quickly and calmly, guiding her wielder through the testing as easily as koi in a pond.

She tensed as the fourth seat, Hajime Fukuyama, brushed her shoulder as he went by and disappeared.

Bringing up her sword to block one handed, she whirled, using her other to brace the blade against her opponents.

Breathing lightly, she kicked again, aiming for his hip, but missed as he slipped away yet again. Years of living in District 73 had honed her baser levels of speed and hakuda. Training in the Academy had only improved them.

She hissed as his sword clipped her shoulder, a thin line of crimson appearing from where the metal had made contact.

However, she retaliated, her hands grasping the hilt of her sword, and struck like a viper, eyes narrowed. The fourth seat dodged, his own eyes widening in slight shock. _She wasn't this good a second ago.. _

Pushing him back with a vicious kick to the stomach, she breathed deeply, calming herself down before she did something she'd regret later. She didn't know who was watching, after all.

"Hey."

Her eyes flicked up to meet his gaze.

"What did you do there? You were different. Stronger."

"So?" she said it so casually, so neutrally, like it didn't matter.

Hajime studied her, seeing the defiant look in her face and the tense movement in her shoulders, his words affecting her more than he thought.

Huffing, he sheathed his sword and began walking away, his hands casually tucked in the edge of his hakama. "That's enough." he called over his shoulder. "It was a pleasure sparring with you."

Tarena didn't know whether it was the flippant manner that he spoke to her or his arrogance, but he annoyed her.

Muttering under her breath, she sheathed her own sword and took another breath of the fresh air.

_He was being pleasant..you could have done the same.. _her sword scolded softly through the wind in the back of her mind.

_And every time, it goes wrong. Zanpakuto or not, you're wrong. _

Silence greeted her, and Tarena suddenly regretted snapping at her sword. She was the only other person who knew her best. She should heed her words and learn from them.

_I'm..sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. _

Silence met her ears.

_I'm sorry.._

_That I can't be stronger. _

A/N: I know, I know. You're all going- "That frickin author doesn't update forever, and then comes up with this piece of shit?"

Well too bad. I'm under a lot of pressure, and I have a life other than Fanfiction.

Sorry.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I know I'm in trouble for not updating for two months or so, but my life has been so freaking hellish that I've just been so shut off from the internet. So, I suggest you check out my profile for some more information on what recent events I've been doing, including changing my penname. **

**Oh, and I'm updating under threat of being run through by a zanpakuto..so...yeah. It's extra long. **

**I hope you enjoy the next chapter of Behind the Mask~**

0-0-0-0

_Chapter Two_

The first couple of days in the Eleventh Division were difficult for Tarena. Most of the men were leering at her left, right, and center. There was little comfort in anything she did, and her hackles were constantly raised.

Which had somehow drawn her to the Fourth seat. Hajime Fukuyama, although analytical and guarded, gave her a small sense of safety in the ranks of all the men. Already, she felt a tentative bond beginning to form with the man, and had agreed to spar with him today, for whatever reason.

Sighing, she tucked her zanpakuto through the white sash tied around her hakama and reluctantly slid open the door to make her way to the sparring grounds.

_Ignore them, Tarena. They aren't worth it. _her zanpakuto whispered gently as Tarena made her way through the grounds, each and every man glancing up at her and not even trying to stop the looks crossing their faces.

As if she were some kind of prize to be won.

Her zanpakuto's voice wasn't as muffled as usual today, she noted. The usual wind that swept most of her words away was less profound, and a lilt was now distinguishable in the low tone of her sword.

_They're all staring. It's kind of hard not to keep myself from pounding their heads into the ground. _

_Just remember, cleaning duty if you do. Besides, it could be hostility they're staring at you with. _

Tarena groaned silently, having completely forgotten about the threat Kiganjo had made.

_I think I'd take hostility at this point. I hate this place. I feel like prey. _she flicked her gaze around, feeling like retching at the gazes she met.

_You're almost there. _she was reassured softly before the familiar presence of her zanpakuto retreated slightly, muting their already tentative bond.

_And that's supposed to comfort me? _Tarena sighed sarcastically, pulling her hair back into a tail and threading her familiar red ribbon around the coppery strands before knotting and pulling it tight.

Entering the grounds, she surveyed it cautiously before sighting Hajime's form amid many others.

Now that she was paying attention, she noted the distinguishing characteristics about his figure.

Inky black strands of hair hung down to his waist, braided tightly and tied with a small white band. His skin was sunkissed, almost appearing gold in the morning sunlight, coated in a thin layer of sweat as he sparred with the group of shinigami around him. His eyes were a focused blue that vaguely reminded her of the sky, flecked with smaller shards of amber.

His uniform was different than the traditional Shihakusho, with the shitagi and kosode sleeveless, baggy at the waist and partially revealing a toned chest, along with a dark sapphire blue obi tied loosely around his waist. His hakama remained the same, along with the familiar white tabi.

Sighing, her observations done, she leaned against a nearby wall and warily waited for there to be a break in all the men.

_So, any chance I'm going to learn your name soon? _she idly wondered to the once again present sword at the back of her mind.

_I will tell you my name when I know you are ready. _she replied. _You have achieved contact with me, at least. I cannot imagine it to be long before you enter my world. _

_Isn't it my inner world? _Tarena queried, curious.

_Up until the point you achieve contact with myself in my world, it will remain mine. I am its guardian and occupant, yet vulnerable to some outside influences. _

_What is it like? _Tarena further questioned.

As her sword answered, an abrupt wind swept her words away, denying the shinigami access to her innermost secrets.

_It seems I am still unable to hear anything about you, zanpakuto. _

_It would appear so. _her sword replied quietly.

"Mitsuya!"

She glanced up, suddenly torn from her thoughts, and noticed Hajime had finished his round. Now he stood only a few steps away, sword unsheathed and loosely held in a non-threatening position.

"Hai, Fourth Seat Fukuyama?" she stated blandly, eyes disturbingly blank as she spoke.

"Are we going to spar, or are you going to stand around daydreaming all day?" he grinned, revealing pearl white teeth. A tooth was missing from his bottom right jaw, right behind his canine, and she hoarded the tiny piece of knowledge away in her mind.

"Hn." she nodded, following him back out to the center of the field, feeling extremely vulnerable in doing so.

"Draw." it was an order, and Hajime's face was serious again, barely a hint of emotion crossing behind his sky-like eyes.

Tarena tensed at the sudden movement he made, shifting his weight onto his left heel, knowing he was most likely to launch a blow from that side. Automatically, she angled herself, hand grasping the hilt of her zanpakuto as she did so.

Hajime, on the other hand, was merely sizing her up, wanting to see the reaction his actions would cause. Her first spar with him had been strange to say the least. When he'd drawn first blood, it was as if he'd unlocked some hidden power that had previously been sealed away. Her speed and timing had skyrocketed, matching that of at least a fukutaicho, if not a taicho. Hajime was curious to see if those abilities would resurface during sparring match.

In a flicker of motion to the bystanders, the two were gone, the sharp clang of metal against metal ringing out through the air.

Tarena narrowed her eyes at Hajime, seeing his own brows furrowed in concentration. A creeping unease ran up her spine as he met her gaze, unlocking their blades and swinging at her ribcage, obviously attempting to draw blood.

She blocked, twisting her wrist and then her torso to lash out with her heel. Hajime dropped under the kick, trying to knock out her remaining leg, sheathing his sword for better mobility in the same motion.

Noticing the frown on Hajime's face, Tarena realized a split second too late what he was doing and dropped. However, she managed to sheath her sword and use one arm to flip away from her opponent.

_He's skilled. _she thought, breathing in small huffs.

Hajime was thinking the same.

Somehow, though the initial blows had only taken a matter of seconds, they had gone from swords to hands.

Tarena sized Hajime up, ready to either draw her sword or block with her fists.

Again, they flew forward, their forms blurred by the sudden use of shunpo.

Tarena managed to clip Hajime on the jaw, one of her nails scraping off a layer of skin, a thin line of blood appearing soon after. He used the momentary loss of defense to his advantage, landing a hit square to her stomach, launching all air out of her lungs in a sudden breathless gasp.

Instantly, Hajime noted the change in her demeanor. An invisible wall in her eyes just deteriorated, and in a split second she had unsheathed her sword and slashed diagonally across his ribcage, a shallow wound appearing. His eyes widened at the sheer speed behind the attack, and he too unsheathed his zanpakuto. He barely had anough time to block the next blow, and a small smile began to stretch across his face. _This _was the power he'd been wanting to see again.

"Looks like I can let loose today." he grinned, feeling satisfaction when Tarena's eyes widened fractionally in shock. Whatever she'd been expecting as his reaction, this was definitely _not _it.

"Hado One;_ Sho!"_

And neither was that, Hajime mused as the kido collided with his blade, shoving him forcefully back a couple of steps. A moment later she was upon him, a barely there snarl curling her upper lip.

As he blocked, he got his bearings and kicked her back, sending her crashing into the nearby wall and sending a giant wave of dust outward.

"Well, that was a little disappointing, Mitsuya." Hajime sighed, sheathing his sword and beginning to walk away.

"Ye lord. Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of man. Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges, march on to the south.Hado Thirty-one; _Shakkaho_."

Hajime barely managed to dodge what could have been a critical hit, the power surging behind the blast instantly blowing his hair back and sending minute ripples across his reiatsu, earning a small shudder at the unpleasant feeling.

Now that he looked closely, Tarena wasn't even close to being brought down. Other than a shallow wound on the right side of her face and a cut on her leg, she appeared to be fine.

_And good at Kido, apparently. _his zanpakuto chirped from the back of his mind.

Before he could answer, she lunged forward, her emotional mask discarded, eyes blazing with fury and something akin to pain. Hajime couldn't help but get a feel of loss from her reiatsu as it brushed against his own.

By now, they had gathered a small audience, the members of the Eleventh slightly shocked that the new recruit seemed to be gaining ground quickly on the Fourth seat. They cautiously and warily lined the remaining wall, dodging the various shrapnel that flew by occasionally.

Among them was a thin, willowy figure wearing a hooded cloak, a pair of amber eyes watching closely as the two sparred. Although at this point, it could be considered a miniature battle, judging by the chaos that was currently unfolding.

Tarena panted, her sword drawn and locked with Hajime's blade again. Her fingers clenched tightly around the hilt of her sword, and she struggled as the pressure on her arms increased fractionally.

Hajime remained infuriatingly calm, a mocking smile tugging at his lips, the difference in their power now becoming obvious. Although a heavier sheen of sweat was covering his visible skin, he was still as unruffled as he'd been at the start. And it was also obvious that he was using that to fuel the ferocity that Tarena was displaying.

However, he was clearly becoming bored and distracted. With a sigh, he blew a stray piece of hair out of his eyes and readied himself for the final blow.

Tarena was struggling with her emotions as she stood across from Hajime. There was the instinctual fear that told her to run from all of the spectators, painfully reminded of her past, along with the anger at being pushed down like she was worth nothing. Behind it all, her emotionless mask that had made most of her classmates and teachers wary in the Academy was cracking.

By a single sparring match with a man.

It was utterly humiliating, and she refused to bow down now. Not when she was desperate for a sense of belonging and safety. When she secretly held that hope deep within her heart, kept safe by her zapakuto.

And yet..

She was already becoming too attached to this man.

She breathed in deeply, readying her sword, and charged.

Hajime followed her example, lunging.

The two collided in a whirlpool of mixed reiatsu and dust, the following explosion a battle for dominance that neearly sent their captive audience flying.

Then, there was silence.

As the dust cleared, the people held their breath, waiting to see which of the two would be the victor.

Hajime's lithe form became visible as debris moved aside, his sword still unsheathed and his face blank.

A few sighs of disappointment filled the air as the crowd dispersed, some hoping for a new outcome. It was painfully obvious that the Fourth seat wasn't about to lose to a new shinigami, and especially not a woman.

But Hajime, although appearing unharmed, watched warily at Tarena hauled herself to her feet, her entire form cowered as she sheathed her sword.

_Something isn't right here... _he thought in concern, watching as she coughed lightly, eyes averted from his probing ones.

_You're right. _his zanpakuto agreed. _It's like something in her broke._

_But what? _he thought back before sheathing his own sword and offering her a tentative hand.

She shied away, still cowering, and ignored him, instead choosing to walk away, her form wary.

_Something definitely isn't right here, Hajime. _

_No, something is not. _he agreed, almost grimly. _She's hiding something, and I'm going to find out what. _

The only question was, how?

**A/N: So, a bit of insight to Hajime here...**

**Hajiime, no matter how controlled or polite, is still a member of the Eleventh Squad, and he is there for a reason. Secretly, he does have a sadistic streak, like most of the members of the Squad, as seen by his reaction to Tarena's sudden outburst in power and emotion. He saw the potential of an actual opponent. **

**So...yeah. Hopefully I'll be more inspired to write more, soon. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I really hate doctors. And needles. And having to get tested for hypothyroidism. And math. And school. **

**But that's enough ranting for one day: I should be getting on with the chapter, after a couple of notes on the characters.**

**Has anyone guessed Tarena's secret? If you have, congrats. If not, you'll be finding out later in the chapter. **

**Hajime's zanpakuto, believe it or not, will be a major part of this chapter. And, the gender is of the female variety, since I forgot to mention it last chapter. Not only that, but you'll be seeing her later on. **

**Warning: Mentions of rape and abuse. **

0-0-0-0

_Chapter Three_

"Mitsuya, Taicho wants to see you."

Hajime rapped once on the door, only slightly surprised when she opened it, fully clothed and alert.

"Hai, Fourth Seat Fukuyama." she replied with a small bow, eyes blank, tone hollow. Turning for a moment, he could have sworn he caught sight of a mottled hand print on the back of her neck before her hair settled back over the nape of her neck.

His eyes narrowed fractionally. _That doesn't look like something she recieved from our spar yesterday.. _

She turned again, sword tucked into the obi at her waist, and glanced at him quickly before slinking past him into the hallway. Hajime reached out to touch her shoulder, but was stopped when she turned her frigid stare on him. She opened her mouth to speak, life sparking in the depths of her eyes, but hesitated. Turning, she walked down the hallway, shoulders ever so slightly hunched over.

_Hajime, I have a bad feeling about all this. _his zanpakuto stated worriedly. He could practically feel her pacing inside of his Inner World. _Keep an eye on her from now on, yes?_

He only considered it for a handful of moments, torn. _What if she's already figured it out and doesn't need any help? We could just wound her pride further. It seems I did a number on her during our spar. _

_Well.. _she seemed torn as well once the facts were pointed out. _Fine. You win this one._

Hajime smirked to himself.

"I always do."

0-0-0-0

"Tarena Mitsuya, reporting."

A grunt was her reply, and stifling a growl, she opened the sliding door to reveal her large framed superior.

"Onna, you're gonna earn your keep here in my Squad." he grunted, turning his back on the kneeling woman to look out the window. "Starting today, you'll be assisting in completing _and _delivering the paperwork to the other squads."

Her head snapped up, mouth already opening to retort, but the low rumble from the man in front of her stopped anything she was about to say.

"Any complaints and it'll be _all_ of the paperwork."

0-0-0-0

_Two months later..._

Tarena hummed softly as she stepped into the Eighth Division, her arms, as per usual, stacked high with paperwork _she'd_ completed.

"Shoo shoo, don't bother me. Shoo shoo, don't bother me. Shoo shoo, don't bother me, or else I'll kill you dead."

"Ne, Tarena-chan, isn't that a little dark for a beautiful day such as this?"

She turned, maneuvering the paperwork to one hand with ease. "Ah, Kyoraku-taicho. I brought your paperwork."

Pulling a handful of papers out from the middle of the pile, she handed them to him with a frown. "Sorry they're so late, but apparently Yamamoto-Soutaicho made an exception for all the paperwork from our Division. I suppose it's because it's actually getting done. Have you seen Ukitake-taicho around?"

"Right here, Tarena-san." the gentle man smiled, appearing next to Shunsui. "I take it you have paperwork for me as well?"

"Fortunately for me, unfortunately for you." she shrugged, pulling another stack out from farther down, almost at the bottom.

"Well, I suppose all will end well eventually." he sighed, taking the papers with a thankful nod. "I believe I am missing paperwork dating back at least ten years."

"Yes, well, it happens when you're in a Division that consists of men only." she near snarled. "Always fighting instead of doing the occasional paper that comes their way. Now look what it's piled up to. Half of this pile belongs to the Tenth Division."

"Oh dear. I don't think Kurosaki-san will be pleased." Shunsui shook his head, pulling his hat lower for a moment before grinning. "But at least you graced us with your ever lovely presence."

Ignoring his comment, she turned, transferring the pile back to two hands, and disappeared in a flash of shunpo.

0-0-0-0

_Hajime...I'm bored..._

_You? Bored? That's a new one. _He snickered.

_It's not funny! Besides, you haven't been keeping an eye on Mitsuya like you said you would. Can I come out?_

_No._

_But why...? _She whined.

Hajime, ever so patient, rubbed his brow tiredly. _What do you want me to do about it? It's been two months. Nothings happened. _

_It doesn't mean nothing is going to happen. I want out. Now. _

_Will you leave me alone if you do?_

_...maybe._

_Done. _

Hajime focused, reaching deep inside of himself and grasping the familiar power that rested in his inner world. Pulling gently, he felt the drain on his reiatsu begin as his zanpakuto's murky form took place before him.

She took the form of some kind of kirin of legend, but none that he knew looked like her.

Her form was slender, her chest broad and scaled, leading into muscled legs sheathed in thunderclouds, and as he watched, the familiar lightning flashed throughout the clouds, the electricity humming in the air. Her face was long, taking on the more savage appearance of a chinese dragon more than anything. Regal horns arched up behind elegant ears, running into the dark grey flamelike clouds that ran down her spine and tail, more lightning flashing through it. Her hind legs were similar to her front, if not more heavily muscled. As she breathed, the low clap of thunder was heard. In all honesty, he was startled that such a regal being was his zanpakuto.

"Ikazuchi Megami.." he couldn't help but breathe.

She glanced over at him, tossing her head. _What?_

"I think you know what. You're too nosy."

_Hn. She's different. _she huffed in reply before bunching her haunches beneath her and launching herself upwards. A low rumble of thunder was heard as she did so.

Rubbing his face, Hajime attempted to concentrate on his book.

"I just hope she behaves."

0-0-0-0

Tarena was unamused with the amount of paperwork she was forced to do in order to keep the Eleventh out of trouble.

Although, by the look on Kurosaki-taicho's face, they were going to be just fine.

"Thank you for delivering this...thing." Isshin smiled. "It's about time someone took control of that Division."

She rolled her eyes. "This is the only thing that's keeping me in the Division, apparently. Could you give this to Matsumoto-fukutaicho?"

She pulled out a rather thick wad of paperwork.

"What's that?"

"Her sake bill."

0-0-0-0

Ikazuchi Megami watched from above as the onna left the Tenth Division, the gigantic pile of paper reduced by nearly half.

Then again, having barracks right next to the Eleventh didn't come without a price...

Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the onna.

She was not as defeated as the last time she'd seen her. She held her head slightly higher, though her eyes were still dull.

_Something's changed... _she thought. _But what?_

By now, she'd been following the onna for a few hours, and the sky was beginning to darken.

And that is when things started getting interesting.

Paperwork delivered, Tarena began making her way back towards the Eleventh Division, though it was going to be a long trek due to being over at the Soutaicho's office for her last delivery.

Nine shadows began to follow her.

_What on earth-?_

Warily, a feeling of dread growing in her gut, she watched as the onna tensed up, her features turning blank and her form speaking volumes.

The shadows circled, and though she couldn't hear what was said, the onna's fearful stance was all she needed to begin putting the pieces of the puzzle into place.

She whirled and launched herself through the air, knowing exactly who she was going to go to, hoping she made it in time.

0-0-0-0

Her chest was being crushed.

She could feel them, feel their blows and their laughter as they cornered her.

"You've managed to stay out of sight for this long." one said mockingly. "A shame we no longer have any use for you."

Dread immediately pooled in her stomach, and she couldn't help but whimper as they suddenly grabbed at her. Automatically, she closed her eyes, waiting for the pain she knew was coming-

Cracking open an eye, she realized that they were no longer in Seireitei.

This was far worse than anything she could remember.

_Stay strong, Tarena. Help is coming._

She doubted it. She would be dead before any help came. These monsters had hunted her for _years_. They knew her habits, where she would hide, what she would do when she was caught again.

And now they had no more use for her.

The gleam of something silver caught her eye, and she was suddenly up and _running_, and she felt the tiniest sliver of hope- but they were following, and they were faster, and unwounded.

She was the doe and they were the wolves.

Lunging, one of them tackled her to the ground. Rolling, she clawed at his face, snarling, refusing to give up now. She had _not _come all this way just to die, damnit!

But by now the remainder of the group had caught up, and within moments they held her down, their grip cold and relentless. The silver of the knife reared up before her before plunging down into her skin, but she refused to give them the pleasure of crying out.

Again, the knife fell, carving bloody patterns into her body and driving her into the back of her mind, seeking the safety her zanpakuto provided.

Finally, after what seemed like years, the knife stopped, replaced with hands around her throat.

Tarena gasped for air, desperately trying to fill her lungs as the fingers tightened. Weakly, she made an attempt to pry his fingers from her throat to no avail. Black spots began dancing at the edges of her vision, and her lungs couldn't take the abuse any longer.

But then, the fingers were gone, and there was suddenly a light shining in her eyes, and there was a man- _NO. _

Her body automatically rebelled against the mere thought of a man, trying to escape with a fearful sob. She couldn't see any faces but _theirs_. Blinking, she recoiled again as a soft voice crooned gentle nonsense at her, refusing to fall for the ruse.

_Tarena, let them help you. Those monsters are gone. These people aren't going to hurt you. _

_Pain. Hurt. Hide. _her mind couldn't comprehend the words her zanpakuto said gently to her, retreating farther into her mind than she had ever gone before and letting her primal instincts take charge of the situation.

"Please forgive me, Mistsuya-san." a voice said before everything went black.

0-0-0-0

The Soutaicho called for order in his unusually rowdy hall.

The Captains, although in their lines, were murmuring in outrage at the news they had just been given.

"I trust you caught the culprits, Yamamoto-taicho?" Yoruichi Shihouin asked stiffly, being one of the only women present.

"Yes. Bring them forward!" he called to a guard by the giant double doors. He nodded before throwing them open, revealing the nine men.

All Rukon brats, the nine men held their heads proudly as they were brought in, though a couple of them sported black eyes.

"You have been brought before the Gotei Thirteen as a result of your crimes against Mitsuya Tarena. How do you plead."

"Not guilty." each said.

Yamamoto's brows raised. "You do not think that assault and violation of this woman deserves punishment?"

"We were merely killing a witch." one boasted.

"A witch?" Yoruichi nearly spat. "You think that because someone is born with unusual traits they deserve to be killed?"

"Yes. Witches do not belong in our society."

Yamamoto's eyes hardened, and he beat his cane on the floor.

"For the violations and attempted murder of the shinigami Mitsuya Tarena, you are sentenced to the Maggot's Nest for three hundred years."

The hall was silent as the men were led out, but there was a feral grin on Yoruichi's face as she followed them to carry out the judgment.

0-0-0-0

**A/N: Well, that was a shitty chapter. **


End file.
